


Belong

by SelkieWife



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Theolyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 04:33:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9640928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelkieWife/pseuds/SelkieWife
Summary: Another drabble from my @weirwoodsea blog on Tumblr. For mrs-storm-andrews who requested an "innocent how everything began fic" for Theolyn Thursday. I don't know if this is exactly that but I hope you like it! I was also very influenced by "Love Attains the Greatest Intensity in Murder" by leapylion3 and "salt in your veins/ the devil beside you" by xylodemon.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrs-storm-andrews (no_fucking_idea_for_a_name)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_fucking_idea_for_a_name/gifts).
  * Inspired by [love attains the greatest intensity in murder](https://archiveofourown.org/works/985006) by [leapylion3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leapylion3/pseuds/leapylion3). 
  * Inspired by [salt in your veins/the devil beside you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/393002) by [xylodemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylodemon/pseuds/xylodemon). 



_S p r i n g_

She didn’t **belong** in the Godswood and neither did he, with the old gods staring down and the gory eyes of the Heart Tree judging them. The young Greyjoy stood up in the hot spring pool, covering himself when she walked in, fearful, ashamed. “Lord Stark said it was alright to come here, my Lady,” he exclaimed defiantly but his lowered eyes gave him away.

She told him to be at ease, she was only coming into the Godswood for the same reason he was, to be **_near the water._ ** She was big with her fourth child and she longed to submerge her aching body in the hot pools, but it would be indecent to disrobe in front of the young boy, so she merely dipped her feet.

They tentatively began to speak of their watery homes. When Catelyn’s eyes unexpectedly filled with tears recalling Riverrun, Theon nodded, understanding, his eyes large and mournful. He was a shy child and she found it curious. He didn’t seem at all the type to raid and pillage. But you can never be too careful… _**children grow up.**_

He timidly told her how happy he was that she was having another baby and that he hoped it would be a boy since he loved being an older brother to Robb. Catelyn stiffened at the notion of Theon, an Ironborn child, being a brother to her children. Theon noticed her reaction and turned away sullen. She felt a bit ashamed so she smiled and said, “would you like to feel him kick?” The lad nodded emphatically and floated over to where she sat, placing his hands _**hungrily**_ on her swollen belly. The heart tree rustled in the wind and Theon let out a joyous laugh. “He’s a strong one!” He said, “he’ll be a good swimmer.”

Then he smiled up at Cat and she smiled back. A few days later she found a pouch in her chambers. When she looked inside she saw it contained sand, sea shells, and rocks made smooth by waves. He must have brought them from the Iron Islands the night he was taken away. She felt tears prick her eyes. He had given her his treasures.  


**_S U M M E R_ **  


Theon held the bow taut, aiming for the target, trying not to focus on the proud woman who stood above him watching, with her eyes blue as **_cold northern roses_** and her hair of _**flame.**_

Catelyn Tully did not **belong** in this bleak place where it snowed even during the summer years. She belonged where there was winding waters, laughter, and warmth. She belonged where people had blood in their veins instead of ice. And she belonged **in his bed..** that too. He smirked darkly as he lost control of the bow. He couldn’t stop himself from stealing an embarrassed glance up at Lady Stark who stood proud and distant. She wasn’t looking at him, she was speaking with her husband and Ser Rodrik.

As he retrieved his arrow he heard Jon’s sullen voice at his side, “You missed the target, Greyjoy.” 

Theon whipped around, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Thank the Gods for your observant nature, Snow.”

“Leave him alone, Jon, something’s obviously distracting him,” chuckled Robb.

 ** _Your  mother_** Theon thought to himself with a sly smile, but not without a twinge of guilt. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Robb’s eyes, the same winter rose blue as Cat’s.

* * *

Catelyn looked down on the Greyjoy boy who had grown lithe and tall during these many summer years. It startled her to realize how like **Brandon** he was. All swagger and a certain rakishness. Yes, Brandon, _The Wild Wolf._ The Stark she would have married had he not been killed. Thank the Mother she had not acted on her impulses and gone to his bed before the wedding night. 

Still… she couldn’t help but smile at the thought. The boy was quite like him. Quick to laugh, to brawl, to bed. At times she would search for a glimpse of the shy terrified child he’d been when he’d arrived ten years ago. But she couldn’t find a trace of that quiet lad. Just this handsome brash youth in his place. She’d caught him recently, looking at her with a certain hunger, as old as she was, a mother of five. A smile teased her lips.  ** _Never trust a Greyjoy indeed._**

**_A u t u m n_ **  


The water lapped dully around the boat as Catelyn stared in front of her with eyes dim. She was finally home, finally where she _**belonged.**_ She should be smiling but she didn’t know if she could ever smile again with Ned gone. For the first time she felt truly old. Truly Northern, filled with cares. Brittle, ice in her veins, **stone** for a heart. Even in this beautiful sunlight, Riverrun was still growing cold. _Winter is coming_ \- the relentless warning. She felt herself shiver.

She pushed the sorrows from her mind. She must be strong for Robb. She steeled herself and waited for the boat to dock by the water stair. She was surprised to see Theon Greyjoy _ **vaulting**_ over the side of the boat like the world was going to end. In a moment he was by her side, **_lifting her by the waist_ ** as if she were a maid, with his strong, sure hands. He spun her around and set her safely on the dry step above him. She gripped his shoulders and looked down at him as he smiled up at her. “My Lady,” he murmured with a slight nod of his head. The Autumn breeze suddenly didn’t feel so cold and she found the courage to smile back at the youth as the sunlight warmed her face.  


_W I N T E R_

They stare at each other as if through a glass. But it is a **_broken_** mirror, distorted. Brittle white hair meets brittle white hair. They both share scars and gashes and eyes that contain multitudes of memory.

The bannerless brothers hold back and regard them. Gory fragments of Bolton soldiers are strewn along the ground where they stand.

Tears pool in Reek’s eyes as he stares at her mournfully. Another man’s guilt is choking him. Another man’s memory of a boy he loved with auburn hair and eyes as blue as winter roses. As blue as **_her eyes._**  Another man once held her in his arms before he betrayed her and her son. But Reek is no man.

He bows his head and kneels before her waiting for the blow, the **_release_** from this life, this ruined body, this tortured mind. 

The brothers wait too, anticipating the kill. They know she has dispatched with others, far less guilty and with much less mercy.

* * *

She moves toward him like a horror, her ruined dress flapping behind her like the wings of a bat, her face ghoulish and gruesome, her eyes grieved.

She stands before him for a moment, tears forming in her eyes, the smallest ghost of a smile on her lips. She bends down and gathers his frail form into her arms, forcing him to **_rise_** with her.

She digs her nails into his back as she holds him. It hurts, as there are recent wounds with fresh blood soaking through his tunic, but he doesn’t mind. He knows he has endured far worse and deserves far worse still.

She can no longer speak but she _remembers_. She remembers holding another boy in her arms with a smile like the sun and eyes as blue as winter roses. She remembers whispering to him, promising him.

**wᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴋɪʟʟ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴀʟʟ**

She can no longer speak but Reek understands. He whispers back the promise a young  ** ~~hostage~~ ** ward once made in another life.   

**“ᴍʏ sᴡᴏʀᴅ ɪs ʏᴏᴜʀs ɪɴ ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀʏ ᴏʀ ᴅᴇғᴇᴀᴛ”**

Reek has no sword. He hardly has hands. But she nods, still holding him. This time they know they will keep their promise. 


End file.
